


Black Sheep

by romanticalgirl



Category: Knives Out (2019), Political Animals
Genre: Drug Use (Implied), M/M, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-24
Updated: 2019-11-24
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:34:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21552331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romanticalgirl/pseuds/romanticalgirl
Summary: Ransom gets kicked out of school (again), disappoints his grandfather (again), pisses off his dad (again).Happening upon TJ Hammond isjustthe thing he needs to make the day much, much better.
Relationships: Hugh "Ransom" Drysdale/Thomas "T.J." Hammond
Comments: 49
Kudos: 215





	Black Sheep

It isn’t the first time Ransom’s been kicked out of a boarding school. It isn’t even the third time. He’s pretty sure his grand-dad would be proud of him for this one though. It’s not easy getting away with the perfect crime. And it was perfect, considering he got thrown out for something completely different while they were trying to prove he’d done it.

Fuck, but Ransom loves his life.

He walks into the house, breezing past the help, and heading to the kitchen. His secret stash of cookies hasn’t been touched, so he grabs a fresh package and heads straight to Harlan’s study. Harlan’s sitting at his desk, glasses perched on his head, staring at nothing. Ransom likes his mom, tolerates his dad, hates the rest of his family, except maybe Meg. 

But Harlan. 

Harlan he loves.

He hasn’t even dropped down into his seat when Harlan starts talking. Ransom’s quiet opening the package of cookies, because this he has to hear.

“Blackmail, hmm?”

Ransom grins. “It’s a classic, you have to admit.”

“Oh, definitely. Trite, perhaps, but still. Definitely an old staple.”

His grin falters a little. “What would you have done?”

Harlan pulls his glasses down and pins Ransom with a look. “My dear boy. I would have gotten away with murder.”

**

“Another one?” His father shouts. “What the hell is wrong with you, you little shit? You think we shell out this kind of money -”

Ransom interrupts. “Grand-dad shells out.”

“-So you can get kicked out of every school we put you in? And for _drugs_?”

“Can we focus on the fact that our son was being blackmailed?” 

“For something he did!”

“I didn’t do _that_.”

“Well, we know the reason why you weren’t guilty of _that_.” 

Ransom sucks in a sharp breath and the air is heavy in the room. His mom is looking at his father with pure fire in her eyes. “Richard.”

“What? Is that another thing we’re not talking about? You think it’s a secret from anyone?”

Ransom sits up from his typical slouch and looks at his father. “We can’t all spend our time chasing after young girls.”

“Young boys are better?”

He stands up and takes a step toward his father. He knows he’s imposing when he wants to be, and he pulls his shoulders forward and his spine pops as he pulls himself up to his full height.His father’s only a couple inches shorter, but it’s enough. “You know, it’s funny that you accuse me of living off the largesse of _you_ , when we all know you’re, at best, some sort of trophy husband. Which is hilarious, considering you’re no goddamn prize.”

“That’s enough.” His mom bites out the words and silences them both. “Enough. Ransom, Go.” She doesn’t let him get a word out, holding up one finger. “Go to your room. Go for a drive. Just go before someone says something they’ll regret.”

Ransom snorts a laugh. “Not likely.”

“Ransom.” 

He takes it for the warning it is, grabbing his jacket as he walks out of the house. He doesn’t have anywhere in mind, just plans to get in his car and drive. In the back of his mind he thinks about going back to Harlan’s, crashing there for a night or two. If nothing else, poking at Marta would give him something to do for a while.

Instead he heads toward Boston. His father’s words rankle, even though they’re the truth. Well, he objects to the _young_ part of the statement. Ransom is nothing if not scrupulous when it comes to his partners. He likes pretty, young things, but he wants substance. He wants someone who can match him wit for wit, quip for quip, fucked-up for fucked-up.

The guys are school are vapid, nothing beneath the veneer of privilege and money they didn’t earn. Ransom admits he has both, revels in it in fact, but there’s more to him than that. One day he might let someone see it.

**

He recognizes him as soon as he sees him. 

They don’t move in the same circles, but they come close. Dancing around the edges of each other, but never connecting. He enters a school Ransom just got kicked out of or Ransom follows in his footsteps, and never the twain shall meet. Until now. 

Ransom knows the look he’s wearing even in the dark. There’s the black sheen in his eyes of being lost in bliss, high on something good. Only the best for the President’s son. He’s not alone, but Ransom grabs a chair from someone else’s table - ignoring their noise of protest - turns it around, and straddles it in front of the table, directly across from his prey.

Target.

Revenge. 

“This is a private party, man.”

Ransom ignores the guy. He knows how to handle a dealer. They’re like the help. Only there when Ransom needs them to be. At his beck and call. “TJ Hammond. As I live and breathe.”

TJ’s eyes register his presence, but there’s nothing like recognition in them, even though Ransom knows TJ knows who he is. Ransom Drysdale is too much of a legend for TJ not to. TJ looks at the guy sitting next to him. “Go away.”

“Excuse me?”

TJ holds out a packet of white powder to the guy and flicks his fingers in his direction. “Go away. Take your party favor and go home.”

“Are you kidding me? For _him_?”

Ransom smiles, all teeth and easy threat. “You heard the man. Be a good boy and run along. He’s got better things to do now.”

The guy stares at him for a moment, then seems to realize both that he’s been dismissed and that Ransom will be glad to get rid of him himself if it comes down to it. He glares at Ransom for a beat longer than he should, but then turns on his heel. Ransom turns back to TJ. 

TJ’s focussed on him now. “I hope you’re not looking for that.” He tilts his head in the direction the other guy had gone, but Ransom knows they’re talking about the packet and not the person. “You don’t get a present when you crash the party.”

“I always come prepared.” Ransom does pills if he does anything at all, because he has no intention of leaving traces anywhere, no clues for anyone to find. He researched for his grand-dad and, you don’t grow up Harlan Thrombley’s grandson without knowing more than the average citizen about murder. 

Patricia Cornwell and Bill Curtis have nothing on Ransom Drysdale.

He takes out a container and rattles it. TJ’s eyes slide toward it, the clinking of pills on plastic like a siren’s song, the true sign of an addict. Not usually Ransom’s type, but he’s been known to make exceptions. Sometimes they prove the rule. Other times, they’re worth the risk. 

Something tells me this is going to be worth the risk.

“Feel like dancing, TJ Hammond?”

TJ looks over Ransom’s cashmere coat and scarf, his brushed blue pants, and his sweater. “You’re not really dressed for dancing.”

“What am I dressed for?”

“Trouble.” TJ shrugs. “Just my kind of outfit.”

Ransom grins and holds out a hand, closing it tightly around TJ’s when he offers it so Ransom can pull him up to his feet. “Dance first. Then we’ll see how much trouble we can get into.”

**

He slams TJ against the wall, grabbing his wrists and pinning them above his head. For all his posturing, TJ surrenders willingly, desperately. He lets Ransom fuck his mouth with his tongue, lets him kick his legs apart, lets Ransom bite and lick and suck down his neck. 

TJ’s cock is pressed hard to Ransom’s leg, and he’s making delicious noises, that Ransom absorbs like a designer drug made just for him. He releases TJ’s hands, but they stay where he put them, and Ransom groans softly in satisfaction. His hands trail down TJ’s sides and bunch up the hem of his shirt before he pulls it off of him, tossing it aside. 

“We’re… Oh fuck,” TJ moans, arching into Ransom’s touch. “In the hallway.”

“Complaining?” Ransom bites the join of TJ’s neck and shoulder hard. TJ ruts against him. 

“Fuck no. Oh, Jesus.”

Ransom glances up through his lashes. TJ’s arms are still over his head, his hands clenched into fists. God, the power is heady. Without a second thought, Ransom bends down, hefts TJ over his shoulder, and opens the apartment door. There’s a fucking doorman, so Ransom doesn’t care that he leaves the key in the lock. All he cares about is kicking any of TJ’s things out of the way and finding the bedroom.

TJ’s face is buried in Ransom's sweater and, even in this position, he’s trying to rut against Ransom’s body. Ransom drops him on the bed and TJ bounces, finally ending up splayed on the mattress. Ransom kneels between TJ’s legs and unfastens his tight jeans. He grips the waistband of both the jeans and TJ’s boxer briefs, yanking them down too fast, too hard.

Grinning wolfishly when TJ groans and arches up, Ransom looks him over. HIs cock is hard and red and thick against his stomach. Ransom licks his lips and tugs his sweater over his head, tossing it aside. “You are goign to look so fucking good on my dick.” 

“Right now, you’re all talk.” TJ’s voice is rough, drugged with coke and arousal. “Let’s see you put your money where your mouth is.”

“Oh, don’t worry. You won’t be complaining about where my mouth is.”

Ransom doesn’t talk during sex. He figures every thrust and touch and biting kiss says everything he needs it to. He likes the power of silence as he makes whoever he’s fucking break down into their component parts. He likes them sobbing and begging. So, after a hard kiss, he gets to his feet and strips. TJ’s eyes rake over him and he licks his lips, the corners of his mouth curling up in a smile.

“Unless you’re into pain, you might want to dig out some lube and condoms.” Ransom smirks, his default expression, but something about TJ makes it hint at an actual smile. Even more so when TJ kicks off his jeans and underwear before turning over and opening his bedside drawer. There’s an impressive array of lubes and condoms and toys, and he loves that, when he turns around, TJ isn’t even blushing. 

Instead his eyes are dark and hot as he looks Ransom over. He’s got a line of people who have fallen at his feet that let him know he’s hot and rich, so the look in TJ’s eyes is familiar. He’s narcissistic enough that it’s a thrill, even though he expects it. 

“You want to do this part?” TJ asks. “Or are you afraid to get your hands dirty?”

Ransom climbs back on the bed, crawling up TJ’s body, knocking the lube from his hand back onto the mattress. He stops with his knees just beneath TJ’s armpits. He straightens and leans forward, one arm on the wall as he grabs his cock with his other hand and runs it over TJ’s lips.

“Open wide.” TJ parts his lips and Ransom laughs. “Wider than that, trust me.”

“Cocky fuck,” TJ sneers.

“Obviously,” Ransom raises his eyebrows and pushes his cock between TJ’s lips and into his mouth. TJ moans around him then starts sucking, wet and tight. Ransom holds onto the headboard, rolling his hips as TJ takes him deep.

TJ’s hands squeeze Ransom’s ass, slide up his abdomen, move down to his hips. Ransom drops a hand to trace the outline of his cock inside TJ’s mouth then pushes two fingers in beside his cock. TJ chokes then sucks and Ransom starts thrusting harder. TJ’s making gorgeous noises - Ransom does like it when they make noises - gagging and moaning beautifully. His short nails dig into Ransom’s ass as he pulls him closer, but Ransom pulls back, cock bouncing slightly as it slips free of TJ’s mouth, smacking his face lightly. 

TJ moans again and Ransom smiles hungrily.

“Do you like to be humiliated? Or are you just used to it?”

TJ doesn’t answer as Ransom takes his cock in hand, strokes it, twisting his wrist as he reaches the head, the skin moving with the motion. Instead he arches up and grabs the comforter beneath him, fingers turning white with the tightness of his grip.

Ransom laughs and lets him go, ignoring TJ’s cry. He grabs the lube and slicks his finger, rubbing it around the rim of TJ’s hole. TJ plants his feet on the mattress and angles up to give Ransom a different angle, and it’s easy to find his prostate, to press against it and watch TJ shudder as his mouth falls open, as goosebumps rise on his skin.

Rubbing firmly keeps TJ with his entire body resting on his shoulders and the soles of his feet, and Ransom has to move closer, use his shoulders to keep TJ’s legs spread wide. He can see tears gathering in the corner of TJ’s eyes, see his lashes darken. 

Ransom grabs the lube with his free hand and pulls his finger out just enough that it’s easy to slide a second one in beside it. TJ might as well have a target on his prostate with how easy and unerringly Ransom finds it again, and his cock is leaking all over his stomach, drops of pre-come sliding down in glistening trails along his abs. 

He watches TJ’s cock jerk. Watches his head roll from side to side and his mouth move in what might be an attempt at words or simple noises he can’t seem to get past his throat. Ransom eases his fingers free and grabs the condom. He wipes his hand on TJ’s comforter, not really caring otherwise, and opens the packet and slides the condom on.

He pinches the head of it and lets it snap, laughing when TJ’s whole body spasms. He lubes his hand and strokes his cock. Pre-come is now running down TJ’s sides and the hair at his temples is damp from his tears. Drugs are great, but fuck, Ransom gets high on this too. Power. Desire. Want. Seeing people desperate for him, begging for it.

He thrusts into TJ, not bothering to take his time as he pushes deep. TJ mewls and then his legs are over Ransom’s hips, ankles locked behind his back. Ransom slides his hands under TJ’s arms and grips his shoulders tight, thrusting in as he pulls TJ closer. He fucks him hard, kisses him harder until neither of them can breathe. 

TJ comes, and Ransom shifts so that there’s practically no space between them, so that TJ’s sensitive cock is trapped and overstimulated.TJ’s fingers dig into the back of Ransom’s neck, his thumbs pressing at the sides of his throat. Ransom groans, hot and guttural, neck arching as he comes.

**

Despite the come on his stomach and the sweat drying on his skin, Ransom doesn’t get out of bed to get something to clean them both. TJ runs his fingers over his stomach, sliding them through his orgasm.

“Were your parents hoping you’d get kidnapped?”

“Probably,” Ransom smirks. “But why do you ask?”

“Ransom?”

“Ah. I’m named after my grandfather’s first book.”

“Which one’s that? Not that I’ve read any, but my dad’s a huge fan.”

“ _Bring Down the Dawn_.” Ransom sighs and rakes his fingers through his hair. “Main character had a son name Hugh. Who was held for ransom. Hence the name. Hugh Ransom Drysdale.”

“That’s awful.” TJ laughs, clapping a hand over his mouth to try and stop the sound. 

“Oh, no. Laugh. Yet another way I’m the family joke.” He turns his head to look at TJ. “Thanks for the fuck.”

“Pleasure was mine.”

“Eh, it was okay for me too.”

TJ shoves Ransom’s shoulder, then levers himself up onto one elbow. He looks down at Ransom, his expression contemplative. “You busy tomorrow night?”

Ransom raises an eyebrow sharply. “I’m not the dating type.”

“Oh, I don’t want to date you.” TJ’s grin is pure wickedness, his eyes bright with amusement. “I’m just wondering if you might like to come to dinner and piss off the President of the United States.”

Ransom thinks for a moment about how much it would piss off his father, how much of a delight his grand-dad would get out of it. “You know, I really think I would.”


End file.
